THAT MELANCHOLY OF RESISTANCE

An appellation against sprawl: to survive
For years in a kind of horror before
A media-worthy comeback is snatched away,
Your class determined not by lack of sleep
But by laying a veil upon time, by addressing
Those interminable questions of whether
You will be called most to reading,
Writing or music over the weekend,
Of what to read next when in this town
No Krasznahorkai is available, no Sebald
Or Walser to borrow, their absence not one
Of authority but points of boredom, deplorable
In this potent din, or is that just the sound
Of newer battles between water and annoyance
Each day and across every border?

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